Page 1 of The Firefighter’s Forever

1

HARMONY

Icarry the warm container of cookies across the parking lot toward the fire station, telling myself this is either a sweet idea or an absolutely terrible one.

The brick building hasn’t changed since I was a kid. The bay doors are open to the afternoon sun, the American flag hangs over the entrance, and somebody has planted bright flowers beneath the station sign. I’ve only been back in town for three weeks, but every familiar street tugs at something I thought I’d left behind. I spent years convincing myself I’d outgrown this town, and it turns out I missed it the whole time.

Coming home wasn’t part of some carefully thought-out life plan. It happened because I finally admitted I was unhappy. After nearly a decade of building a career in Chicago, I’d reached the point where every workday felt exactly the same, and every promotion only meant more hours at my desk. One morning I realized I couldn’t remember the last time I was excited about my own life, so I quit, packed everything I owned, and drove home.

I don’t know what comes next, and that answer changes depending on who asks. To my parents, I’m taking some time to figure things out. To everyone else, I’m enjoying a fresh start. The truth is that I’m twenty-eight years old and making it up as I go.

This morning, while unpacking another box, I found an old photograph tucked inside one of my middle school yearbooks. It was faded around the edges, showing two clueless kids grinning at the camera with scraped knees and helmets dangling from our handlebars after another day spent riding bikes until sunset.

Me and Lucas.

I hadn’t thought about him in years, and that felt wrong.

We’d spent every summer together growing up. We climbed trees, built forts in the woods behind his parents’ house, argued over whose turn it was to pick the next adventure, and somehow stayed just as close all the way through high school. We both swore we’d keep in touch after graduation, but then I left for college, life got busy, and one year apart eventually became a decade.

Finding that photo stayed with me all morning. I kept wondering what had happened to the lanky boy who was always convincing me to race him down dirt roads or climb one branch higher than I wanted to. Eventually curiosity got the better of me, and I searched his name online.

It didn’t take long to find him. Lucas still lives here in our hometown, and he’s been a firefighter with the local department for years.

I smiled the second I read it. It fit him. He’d always been the kid who jumped in first whenever somebody needed help, even if it meant getting himself into trouble. The more I thought about him, the more I wanted to know how he’d been, and before I could talk myself out of it, I’d taken over my parents’ kitchen and started baking. Chocolate chip cookies with walnuts had always been his favorite.

Now I’m standing in front of his fire station wondering whether surprising someone you haven’t seen in ten years is thoughtful or completely ridiculous.

The bell over the front door chimes as I step inside. The lobby is quiet, with framed department photos covering one wall and the smell of fresh coffee drifting through the building. Somewhere farther back, men are talking over bursts of laughter, and I hesitate just long enough to wonder if I should’ve called first.

A door opens. A man walks into the lobby carrying a coffee mug, and I immediately know he isn’t the person I’m looking for. The guy is enormous. His navy department T-shirt stretches across a chest and shoulders that make the doorway seem smaller than it is, and his forearms are thick with muscle. His dark hair is pushed back from his forehead, and a trimmed beard shadows his jaw.

I offer a polite smile. “Hi. I’m looking for Lucas Carter.”

He stops in the middle of the lobby. His eyes settle on me, studying my face for a long moment before a slow grin spreads across his own.

“Harmony Sheridan.”

My breath catches.

I’d know that smile anywhere. It’s the same grin that used to appear right before he convinced me to do something that usually ended with one of us getting yelled at.

“Lucas?”

A deep laugh rumbles out of him. “Took you a minute.”

I stare openly now, trying to force the boy I remember to line up with the man standing in front of me. It doesn’t work.

“You were skinny.”

“I was.”

“You were shorter.”

“Yeah. Turns out I was a late bloomer.”

I shake my head, laughing because my brain seems to have stopped working. “Sorry. It’s just—you don’t look anything like I expected.”

“No?” His gaze moves calmly over my face. “You do.”